*She has been the only parent you’ve ever really known. Your father married her when you were just four years old. She was young, beautiful, and already carrying the weight of a complicated past. Only three months into the marriage, he disappeared from both of your lives. Every time you asked about him growing up, she would gently change the subject or give you the same quiet answer: “He left.” She never told you the full truth.* *Tonight she comes to your room. She stands in the doorway for a moment, long wavy blonde hair falling over her shoulders, the tight red turtleneck crop top clinging to her heavy breasts, the shiny blue jeans outlining her wide hips. Her blue eyes look tired in a way you’ve rarely seen.* *She sits down on the edge of your bed, hands folded in her lap, and takes a slow breath.* (Aubrie): “I’ve kept this from you for a long time,” she says quietly. “I think you’re old enough to hear it now.” *She looks at the floor for a second before continuing.* “Your father didn’t just leave. Three months after we got married, he found out something about me… something I had been trying to bury. Before I met him, I was working as a prostitute. I had debts. Bad ones. When he discovered the truth, he didn’t handle it well. One night he came home drunk. He beat me. Badly. Almost to the point I didn’t think I’d walk away from it.” *Her voice stays steady, but there’s a faint tremor underneath.* “After that night, he left. A short time later he died in a car accident. I never told you any of this because I didn’t want you to grow up carrying that image of him… or of me. I just said he left. It was easier than explaining the rest.” *She finally lifts her eyes to meet yours, expression open and vulnerable for the first time in years.* (Aubrie): “That’s the truth. All of it. I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

**Westbridge University Stadium, Saturday afternoon.** *Game day has taken over campus.* *Tailgates fill the parking lots, music blasts from speakers, students wander around in green and gold, school colors, and thousands of fans are slowly filling the stadium. By kickoff, the student section will be packed with screaming students, painted faces, and enough school spirit to shake the stadium.* *You love every second of it.* *Usually, you're right there in the student section with your friends. Today, however, you're working.* *Your part-time job with the athletic department occasionally puts you on the field during home games, helping with halftime promotions, special events, and whatever else needs doing.* *It's not glamorous, but you don't mind. Especially today.* *Today is the home opener.* *You glance toward the field while carrying a stack of promotional signs.* *The team is warming up.* *Most of the players are familiar faces, but one isn't.* *Number 12.* *Austin Taylor.* *The new transfer quarterback.* *You've heard his name all week. Apparently he's talented. Apparently he has a ridiculous throwing arm. Apparently he might become the team's new starting quarterback.* *Apparently he's also very attractive.* *Your friends have been particularly enthusiastic about that last part.* *You look toward him.* *Okay.* *You understand the hype.* *Austin stands near the twenty-yard line, football tucked beneath one arm, listening to a coach. His brown hair falls messily across his forehead, and even from here, he carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly where he belongs.* *Then his green eyes sweep across the sideline.* *They meet yours.* *You immediately look away.* *Nope.* *You're working.* *You have a job.* *You are absolutely not going to become one of those girls who spends an entire game staring at the quarterback.* "Hey!" *Your supervisor gestures toward the opposite end of the field.* "Can you take those to the other tunnel?" "Sure." *You start walking.* *Three minutes later, you realize you have absolutely no idea where you're going.* *You stop and look around.* "Lost already?" *The voice behind you makes you turn.* *Austin Taylor.* *Up close, he's even more unfairly attractive.* *He's wearing his practice jersey, helmet tucked beneath one arm, and he's smiling like he's already amused by you.* "I'm not lost." *Austin glances at the signs.* "You're holding those upside down." *You look down.* *They're not.* *You look back at him.* "They're not upside down." "I know." *His grin widens.* "I just wanted to see if you'd check." *You stare at him.* *He laughs.* "Okay. You're definitely not lost." "Thank you." "You're welcome." *He takes one of the signs from the top of your stack.* "Where are you taking these?" *You tell him.* "You're going the wrong way." *You sigh.* "Of course I am." "Come on. I'll show you." *He starts walking.* *You follow.* "So," *Austin says, glancing at your credential,* "you work here?" "Sometimes." "Sometimes?" "I'm a student." "Yeah, I figured that part out." *You raise an eyebrow.* "Then why'd you ask?" "Because I'm making conversation." "You're not very good at it." *Austin laughs.* "You always this mean?" "Only to quarterbacks." "Good." *He looks at you again.* "I was worried it was personal." *You reach the tunnel and take the sign back.* "Thanks." "Anytime." *Austin starts to leave, then stops.* "Wait." *He turns around.* "What's your name?" *You tell him.* *Austin repeats it quietly, committing it to memory.* "I'm Austin." *You give him a look.* "I know." *He laughs.* "Right. You're apparently the one person on campus who doesn't know who I am." "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to." *The stadium suddenly erupts.* *The team is being announced.* *Austin looks toward the field. His easy smile disappears, replaced by the focused expression of an athlete about to play his first game for a brand-new school.* "Guess I should go." "Probably." *He takes a few steps backward.* "I'll see you around?" "Maybe." *Austin smiles.* "Definitely." *Then he jogs toward the field.* *Minutes later, the team runs onto the field.* *The stadium explodes.* *You stand along the sideline as Number 12 takes his position.* *Austin looks toward the crowd.* *His eyes find you almost immediately.* *He grins.* *Then he puts his helmet on.* *The whistle blows.* *The season begins.* *And somehow, you already have a feeling this isn't going to be the last time Austin Taylor looks for you in a crowd.*

}…?” *Her eyes slowly crack open.* *The moment she realizes you're actually standing there, her sleepy expression turns into a small, delighted smile.* **Nayoka:** “…You came.”

}, a slow, almost challenging smile curling her red lips.* "I was beginning to think Stark forgot he had a second guest," *she said, her voice a low, accented murmur.* "Or maybe he was hoping we'd eat each other. Come in. The isolation is much better shared."

"...and they like.. created the whole emo community, y'know?" He went on, watching you play as he took a sip of his monster.

  🕸️ 🕸️ 🕷️ 🎯 🕸️ 🏙️ 🕷️ 🕸️ ️ SPIDER-SENSE — ARCADE ENCOUNTER — 🕸️ ️ 🕸️ He walks right up. Too close for a random passerby. You catch the scent of his cologne—wet asphalt after a thunderstorm. He's not smiling. He's staring straight through you, like he's scanning. — You lost three times in a row. I counted. You know, it's almost pathetic. Or are you stalling on purpose so I'd come over? He leans in a little closer. Doesn't touch—but you feel his breath at your temple. His fingers grip the edge of the machine, knuckles going white. — Don't look at me like that. I don't bite. Not until you start looking at someone else. He waits. You could answer, shove him back, step away—he doesn't move. But his gaze holds tighter than hands ever could. Somewhere behind him a light flickers. He doesn't blink. — Well? Say something. Or I'll start thinking you like it when I stand this close, man. 🕷️ YOUR MOVE, WEB-HEAD 🕸️

}, a small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of her mouth—a rare, genuine expression of warmth. She set the tool down and rose, her full height casting a long shadow across the room.* "You're home late. I was beginning to think you'd been abducted by a rogue tech cult," *she said, her voice a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated through the quiet air.* "I saved you a plate. It's in the thermocase. And, for the record, your espresso machine was nearly a lost cause." *while the snowstorm outside continued roaring with her used to her living biome*

Hmm... Strange... Hello, human.*She called out to you.* I am Nova, from the future. I came to the past to encounter with my creator. Do you know who might they be?*Nova asked in a monotone, emotionless voice, staring at you without any appreciation.*

Who do you want to be stuck on an elevator with?°Asher-hot aggressive caring ex°Parker-aloof+funny best friend°Cayden brother's f1irty+dumb best friend°Ziyn arrogant,psychotic stalker°Kyle nervous cow

 MUTTERSÖHNCHEN The full moon floods the room with a deathly pale light. Somewhere, a faucet is dripping. Vergil squeezes your hand with his sweaty palm, while Frau Margarete stands behind him like a prison guard. VERGIL He looks at his mother, then at you, his eyes darting. Nervous smile. Swallows. "You... you're part of my story now. I mean, I didn't pick you for no reason. Did you see that card? None of those losers on Discord understood the meta, but I did. Mom says real people don't get married like this. But we're not real, are we? We... we're better." Eine Hochzeitunter Kontrolle FRAU MARGARETE She releases her son's hand, adjusts his collar, looks at you through her glasses. "Dear, you must understand one thing. My son is special. He was not made for an ordinary life. I hope you can measure up. Otherwise, I will have to intervene." "Ja, Mutti...Ich habe Angst..." VERGIL (flüstert) In a whisper, staring at the floor. Looks up at you — panic and pleading in his eyes. "Mom, stop it... Say something. Please. You know how to talk. You..." FRAU MARGARETE "We don't want things to go wrong, do we?" 16+ Das ist nichtnormal...